


Pretending

by Enigmaticrose4



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Moving On, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-24 17:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigmaticrose4/pseuds/Enigmaticrose4
Summary: Tragedy took away those she loved most. Necessity kept her sane. Love brought her back to life. -Dramione





	1. July 11, 2005

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very sad and depressing first chapter. Mentions of major character death. But this story is ultimately about healing and moving on. It is dramione and it will have a happy ending. Yes, the event that causes the deaths was a real terrorist attack in London. I am not trying to discount those that were truly affected by it, nor am I trying to make a political statement. It, like 9/11 was a tragedy. Still, people can't let tragedy overcome them and must move on if they are to truly survive themselves.

**July 11, 2005**

Rain beat steadily around her, accenting the loneliness that sat within her heart.  She’d spent too many years as part of a set, just one wheel of the machine.  Important and necessary, but useless without those around her.

She had to relearn her life.  Never again would she see their smiling faces, hear their laughter as they tested out George’s new products.

Who would so happily let her boss them around?  Who would tell her to put a sock in it when she inevitably pushed too far?

Her hand drifted to her waist.                  

Who would she share this news with?

She’d never get to see Ron’s eyes light up with the knowledge that they would be parents.  Never see him teach their child how to fly.  Never listen to him complain about a lack of sleep due to incessant crying.

She’d never see Harry and Ginny have more children.  Never watch their children playing together.  Never stand on King’s Cross station with them and see them go off to Hogwarts.

King’s Cross.

Why did they have to go on a lark?  That day, of all days, Harry had to show Ron and Ginny what a muggle double-decker was like.

Why had she been at work?  Maybe, if she had been with them she would have seen the bomber.  She was the observant one.  It was her job to see those things.

Tears prickled at her eyes and her hands tightened in her robes.

Lies.

I must not tell lies.

That had been on Harry’s hand.  That was how she had identified him.

A sob ripped through her and she swayed on her feet.  Instantly she felt an arm go around her shoulders and she was pulled close to a broad chest.

She didn’t know who it was.

But it didn’t really matter, he wasn’t Ron.

The tears flowed freely, her sobs drowned out by the sound of the rain.  She almost wished she wasn’t a witch.  If she had been a muggle she would have known she could have done nothing.

But as a witch…

Another sob tore through her and a hand patted her back awkwardly.  She let it all out.  All her fears of the future and what might be coming.  Tomorrow was another day.  Tomorrow she could focus on the life growing within her and what she would do with herself.

But today she would look back at yesterday.  Look back and mourn those she had lost.

When no more tears would come she pulled back, a fine linen handkerchief filled her vision and she took it gratefully.  Her tears dried, she looked up to see the last person she ever expected in front of her.

“What…” she started, but found herself unable to continue.

He nodded over at the freshly-filled graves, “Potter saved my life.  I came to pay my respects.”

She forced out a smile, knowing that if she didn’t she would cry again.

“He saved all of our lives.  He had a saving people thing.”

Malfoy’s lips twisted into a smile that perfectly matched her own, “That he did.  Now, why are you over here by yourself?  I would have thought the Weasleys would be with you.”

“They’re over there, with Ron.”  She pointed behind him at another grave.  “I already paid my respects.”

“Bullshit.  You were his wife.  I’m betting you want to say goodbye once they’re gone.  You don’t want anyone to hear you.”

She looked up at him, tears once again prickling her eyes.  “How do you know that?”

“Granger, I may have been an utter prat when younger, but I’ve known you since we were eleven.  You just lost your two best friends in the world.  You, like me, are an only child.  You take comfort in those around you, but you’d prefer to let your walls down when no one is watching.  I know.  I did the same thing with my father last year.”

She bit her lip and looked away.  Each Weasley left a flower on Ron’s grave.  Mrs. Weasley, looked old and beaten, her face nothing but grief.  Mr. Weasley looked no different as he wrapped his arm around his wife.  The four remaining Weasley children stood close together, as if there was safety in numbers.  Bill had his arms wrapped around his wife, their young daughter, Victoire, was in Charlie’s arms, looking around curiously.  Percy’s arms were full of his little girl, Lucy, who was sound asleep.  George had little Fred strapped to his chest, his arms wrapped around the baby as if he was an anchor.  His wife was off to the side, her arm linked through the arm of Percy’s wife.  A sight that would normally surprise Hermione, as Angelina and Audrey could barely stand each other.  The rain continued to fall, sliding soundlessly off of the enchanted black umbrellas hovering above each person.

Malfoy said nothing to break the silence.  She found herself finding solace in his quiet presence.  He couldn’t understand her current emotions, but he did comprehend enough to know he couldn’t truly understand.

The Weasleys eventually came back towards her.  They all looked at her sadly, with Mrs. Weasley stopping for a bracing hug, before they walked over to Harry and Ginny’s graves.  She watched them for a moment, and then walked over to Ron’s.

There were other people around, though most had left after the service.  She could see some of her old classmates, including Neville and Luna nearby.  Luna’s arms were full of young James.  He kept looking around and saying something, she couldn’t make it out over the sound of the rain, but she knew what he was saying.  He’d been asking for ‘Mummy’ and ‘Daddy’ constantly since they had failed to pick him up from Luna’s house, where she was babysitting him.

As Godmother, Hermione knew she would have to step up and see that he was settled somewhere.  She knew Molly and Arthur would help her get organized.  But she wasn’t going to think about that today.  No, today was no time for the future.  It was a day for the past.

As she approached Ron’s grave the others moved away, giving her space.  Part of her realized Malfoy had followed her, but she paid him no mind.

Ron would’ve laughed at the thought of Malfoy attending his funeral.

A week ago she likely would have as well.  But not today.  Today she found his presence…comforting she supposed was the right word.

That first train ride to Hogwarts she had met and formed opinions on four people.   Most of those opinions had eventually been proven false.

She’d thought Harry was nice, but a bit of a pushover.  Ron had done nothing to impress her.  It wasn’t until the two of them had run in to save her from a mountain troll that she realized that first impressions weren’t always true.

Neville had come next.  She’d thought him sweet, but rather hopeless.  By the time she’d watched him face down Voldemort and slice a head off a snake she’d realized how wrong she was.

Malfoy was the only one that hadn’t truly changed in her mind - at least not in the same way.  He’d been a bully, he’d insulted her, hurt her friends, let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, watched as she was tortured in front of him, and almost let his friend kill them all with fiendfyre.  He was a menace.

And, for some reason, she found that comforting.

So, she soaked in the comfort and looked down at the stone marking where Ron had been put.  The words slipped out in a whisper, “Ron, I love you.  I’m sorry we argued that morning, but I suppose that was us.  We always argued, but then, we always made up.  This time we can’t and I-” she stopped, a lump in her throat.

A hand patted her shoulder comfortingly and she looked over to see Malfoy beside her, but he didn’t look at her, his eyes were on the stone engraved with Ron’s name.  A moment later a strong hand landed on her other shoulder.  There was Neville, his face turned towards hers, giving her an encouraging smile.

She swallowed the lump and took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, Ron.  I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry we argued.  I’m sorry I wasn’t there.  But, I’m sorry most of all because I never got to tell you.  I wasn’t sure at first.  Then, when I was, I wanted to tell you at the right moment.  Well, I’ve learned my lesson.  I never got to tell you that you’re going to be a father.”  Her hand moved down to her abdomen as the tears started to fall again.  She felt someone hug her from behind; a single small, pale hand slipped over her own and she knew it had to be Luna.  She could feel little James grabbing onto her robes in the back, rubbing his chubby cheek against her shoulder blade.

No one said a word and Hermione was grateful.

If she closed her eyes she could pretend they were different people.  Pretend it was Ron and Harry next to her.  Pretend it was Ginny holding James and hugging her, knowing it would annoy her.

When the rain weakened and grew to a stop she would have to wake from the dream.  She would have to say goodbye and go back to reality.

She had things to do and plans to make.

But, until that moment happened, she would stand here and pretend.

No one could deny her that.


	2. May 21, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's got work to do. The children have other ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Julist and Ladybear92 for beta reading this.

“Mummy!”

The childish cry rang through the small cottage, distracting Hermione from her work. She sighed and set down her quill.

Rose wasn’t supposed to be home for several hours. Long enough for Hermione to get this report finished for work. Percy had promised her he would take Lucy, James and Rose to the zoo, then they would meet Audrey and Little Molly at the Burrow for dinner. That had been her price for doing this favor for him.

She barely got halfway to the front parlor when her arms were full of her five-year old daughter. Standing in the parlor doorway was a very defiant looking James Potter, with a slightly amused Draco Malfoy behind him. She frowned, stamping down the pain in her heart. She'd seen that look on Harry's face much too often.

It was a blessing and a curse - that James looked as much like Harry as Harry had looked like his own father. At least Rose was a beautiful blend of her and Ron. And her eyes were entirely her own. Unlike James and his brown eyes, so like his mother’s.

"Mummy! James made this bad boy blow up! He got like this!" She puffed up her face with air, trying to show what had happened.

Having once heard about Harry's 'Aunt' Marge, Hermione already had a good idea.

"He pushed Rose. Said little babies can't look at lions. Too scary," James said the last bit in a sneer and Hermione sighed.

James may look like Harry, but he was as vindictive as Ginny. 

Maybe there should be a law about allowing Potters into zoos. For the safety of bullying muggle boys, of course.

"Don't worry, Hermione. Everything was sorted out, but Percy decreed that the fun day was over. So after obliviating the nearby muggles I offered to see them home to you."

Hermione sighed and set Rose down, "Thank you, Draco. James," she directed her attention at the boy, "please go upstairs to your room and think about controlling that temper." She pulled out her wand and sent a spell at the boy. "You are to sit on your bed and think. I shall know instantly if you crack open a book or touch a toy. Understand?"

James looked down, "Yes, Aunt Hermione."

He trudged up the stairs and Hermione wanted to call him back, say that boy deserved it, but she couldn't allow herself to do that. James had to learn discipline. He had to know when to seek his own justice and when to find an adult. 

Who knew raising children by herself could be so difficult?

Rose tugged on Hermione's robes. "Mummy, can I go play with my dolls?" 

She nodded, "Yes, but be quiet, Mummy has work to do and James needs to think."

Rose nodded and put a finger to her lips, making a shushing sound before turning and silently creeping up the stairs.

Hermione watched her go, knowing she couldn't keep the sad smile off her face.

"You're doing a brilliant job with the two of them."

She almost jumped, she'd forgotten Draco was there.

"It's nice you think that, but sometimes I'm not so sure. Rose isn't too difficult, she's almost as self-sufficient as I was. But James...well, he seems to feel he has to earn his place in this family. He's so protective of the younger ones. Of all the cousins only Teddy and Victoire can get him to relax and act like a child. Now," she slipped her wand back into her robes and wandered into the kitchen, checking the time, "it appears I have to cook an actual supper today rather than getting work done. Would you care to join us? You know I've never managed to cook without mountains of leftovers."

"I have a better idea."

She looked at him and arched a brow in curiosity. He was looking at her old-fashioned stove. She took the time to study his profile. 

He'd aged well, his harsh lines softening just enough to give him a more polished look. His hair had never darkened, but he had let it grow out. It was tied at the nape of his neck with a black silk ribbon. As if he was a historical character in one of the novels she read during her rare free time.

She wondered sometimes why he had never married. She knew he'd been courting Astoria Greengrass, but that had ended soon after the bombing that had torn her life apart even worse than Voldemort had.

Sometimes she wondered just why he had ended it. But then she reminded herself that she shouldn't wonder. She had children to raise, a career to work on, and no room in her heart for reformed bullies.

No, no room at all.

oXoXoXo

It was several hours later that a delicious smell reached her office. Her quill dropped onto the pile of parchment lying before her and she closed her eyes, breathing in deeply.

Food.

Real food.

In her own home — and she hadn’t cooked it.

The sudden urge to cry came over her, but she stamped it down like she always did.

She didn’t have time for tears. She needed to get this report finished so she could spend tomorrow with Rose and James. Sunday was their family day — just the three of them. 

She worked for another thirty minutes, until a soft knock on the door made her look up to see Draco standing in the doorway, her practical blue apron tied around his waist. Seeing it on him made her heart lurch.

“Food will be ready in five if you’re at a good stopping point.”

She glanced down at the report. It was essentially finished, she was just fact-checking. Something she could finish after the children went to bed.

“Yes,” she put down her quill and stood up to stretch, “this is a good time. I’ll go get the children.”

“Rose is already in the kitchen. She came down about half an hour again. Helped me set the table.”

She smiled and looked back at Draco, only to forget what she was going to say at the look in his eyes as he stared at her. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she swallowed nervously.

“Oh, that’s good. Rose is such a little helper. I-I’ll go get James then.”

He didn’t step out of the doorway to let her pass. Rather he turned to the side, making her brush against him as she moved past. Somehow her cheeks grew even warmer and she felt a bit tingly where they touched.

It had been so long…

No!

She gave her head a shake as she climbed the stairs to the second level. Of all the people to see that way after so long, it had to be Draco Malfoy? Just where had her common sense gone?

They may have become friends in the past five years, but they couldn’t erase the past.

Composing her features she knocked on James’ door.

“Yeah?” He said sullenly through the door.

She rolled her eyes and couldn’t stop the small smile from twisting her lips up at the corners. 

“James, it’s Aunt Hermione. May I come in?”

“Yeah,” he said once more, somehow making the word come out even more sullenly.

She rolled her eyes again and then opened the door. James was sitting on the small bench under his bedroom window and watching the sun sink down over the rolling hills outside.

She pulled up his desk chair and sat down in front of the bench. He didn’t look away from the window.

“James, do you understand why you’re in trouble?”

“No. That boy hurt Rose. I was protecting her.”

“No, James, you weren’t protecting her.”

He swung around, brown eyes blazing like a burning log. “He hurt her! I couldn’t—”

“James.” She reached out and touched his bony shoulder, making him snap his mouth closed sharply. “After he pushed her, did he try to hurt her again?”

He looked down at his scuffed trainers.

Her voice grew softer, becoming coaxing. “Jamie?”

“No,” he mumbled.

“So you weren't really protecting her, were you? You were getting revenge. Using magic on a muggle boy that had no protections against it. That’s what a bully does.”

His head snapped up to look at her, his eyes blazing. “I’m not a bully!”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. His face turned pink and he looked away from her.

They sat there in quiet for a moment, the setting sun bathing them in its warmth.

“I-I wasn’t very nice, was I?”

She shook her head, “You really weren’t. What should you have done instead?”

He grew quiet, thinking for a moment before saying, “I shoulda told Uncle Percy.”

She nodded. “That was probably the best choice.”

“Yeah.”

She smiled softly at the look of failure on his face, so like Harry’s own expressions. She opened her arms, “How about you give me a hug? Then we’ll go eat the lovely dinner Mr. Malfoy cooked for us and you can thank him for bringing you home and helping earlier.”

He threw himself into her arms and hugged her tightly. “Love you, Aunt ‘Mione,” he whispered.

Her eyes burned, but she held off the tears that tried to appear. Sometimes it felt like she had to fight them every minute. Even at work, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she was regularly reminded of what was now missing from her life. Every time she met with a werewolf she was reminded of Professor Lupin and his relationship with Harry. Every house elf case reminded her of S.P.E.W. and her old ambitions — how it was Ron’s desire to protect the Hogwarts’ elves that led her to kiss him that first time. Thestrals, hippogriffs, and dragons reminded her of old adventures.

It was all just too much. And yet she couldn’t imagine working anywhere else.

She sniffed and pulled Jamie tighter, burying her nose is his soft, messy hair.

Less than a minute later he began squirming, trying to pull away. She chuckled and wiped her eyes as she let him go.

“Ready to go down?”

“Yeah.” He stood up and pushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. She really needed to give him another haircut. Just to keep it out of his eyes. 

When they reached the kitchen they found the small table set for four. Rose was already perched in her seat, boosted up so that she could easily eat. 

The smells were absolutely divine.

“This smells lovely, Draco. Thank you for cooking.” She gave Rose and Jamie a rather pointed look as she sat down. They quickly said thank you.

Draco smiled, setting a massive bowl of pasta on the table.

“It was no problem. I’ve recently discovered an interest in cooking. As satisfying as brewing potions, but much more forgiving. I hope this turned out alright. I’ve never made chicken picatta before.”

“I’m sure it will be wonderful,” Hermione said as she dished up bowls for Rose and Jamie.

The two children stared at the food for a moment, frowning. Jamie reached out and nudged at a little green caper with his finger.

“Why’re there peas in pasta?”

“Jamie, don’t touch your food with your fingers. And they aren’t peas, they’re capers.”

Rose picked one up and stared at it for a moment before popping it into her mouth. A second later it came right back out, landing in her hand and then being laid on the edge of her pasta bowl.

Her little nose was wrinkled in disgust and her lips were twisted downwards. Hermione opened her mouth to lecture Rose on proper table manners, but was cut off by the sound of Draco’s laughter.

She glared at him, but he just laughed harder.

“I — I’m sorry! It’s just—” he snorted in laughter. “That expression! It’s a carbon copy of you! Down to the wriggling of the nose!”

“He’s right, Aunt ‘Mione,” Jamie said, beginning to snicker.

Hermione frowned, wrinkling her nose in annoyance as she opened her mouth to respond.

Rose’s giggle stopped her. Her daughter was giggling and wrinkling her own noise, going cross eyed as she tried to look at it.

Hermione let out a long suffering sigh and put her head in her hands. A moment later the humor of it all hit her. 

Draco Malfoy had cooked dinner. Cooked a rather nice Italian dish for the children of Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. And, much as she had loved those two boys, they did not have sophisticated palates.

She giggled, looking up to see Draco pick up a caper and toss it in his mouth. He happily ate it as her children watched him in disgust.

“Ew,” Jamie said, pushing his bowl away.

Rose did the same.

“I should’ve known better than to cook Italian for two Weasleys,” Draco said as he pulled out his wand.

Jamie crossed his arms and glared at Draco, “I’m a Potter! Not a Weasley!”

Draco cocked an eyebrow at him. “Really? And what was your mother’s name?”

Jamie pursed his lips and sank into his chair, the frown in his face deepening.

“I’m a Potter. Rose is the Weasley.”

Draco started to reply, but Hermione stopped him.

“Jamie feels there are too many Weasleys. He likes being the only Potter.”

“Ah, is that so?” Draco asked as he waved his wand and banished all the capers from the children’s dishes. “Well, there is something to be said about being the only one. But I can say from experience that it grows rather lonely.”

“Lonely? I don’t believe that,” Jamie snapped back, still frowning.

“Jamie—” Hermione started, but she was cut off by Draco reaching over and putting a hand on her arm.

“It’s fine. Maybe if I explain.” He set his silverware down and looked at Jamie very seriously. “How much do you know about me, James?”

“Aunt ‘Mione told me you went to school together. Grandma said you were on the wrong side, but were just a child. Uncle George gives me things to put in your tea when you visit. Uncle Percy says you're brilliant, if snooty. Mr. Neville says you were a nasty piece of work, but grew up. Miss Luna says something about eggs hatching and dragons rebirthing like a phoenix. Grandpa says—”

“I think that’s enough, Jamie,” Hermione hurriedly said. She wasn’t quite sure what Mr. Weasley had said, but she knew he’d never had a good word to say about the Malfoys.

Draco was looking a bit pink in the cheeks, but displayed no true emotions when he continued speaking. “Well, yes, they do say many things about me. But do they explain where I came from?”

Jamie, still frowning, shook his head.

“I’m an only child. And not just an only child, but the only child of an only child. That means on my father’s side I had no aunts or uncles. Just like you.”

“Jamie has no Potter aunt or uncles!” Rose chimed in, making the same connection Jamie was. 

Merlin, her daughter was brilliant for being so young. Hermione wondered if her own academic records at Hogwarts would be broken in another seven years.

“Yes, like James. Though my mother’s side wasn’t much better. You see, she only had two sisters. One of them was a very bad person and was sent to Azkaban not long after I was born. The other one was a lovely woman, but she and my mother had quarrelled terribly and so never spoke. I grew up with no siblings, no real aunts or uncles, and no real cousins.”

“No cousins?” Rose asked in horror. Jamie was still stubbornly frowning and not saying a word.

“Well, I had one cousin, but she was years older than me and I don’t think we ever really met before she died in the war. I know her son some, but there is a large age difference between us and he is much closer to his godfather’s family. So, you see, being the only one is not really that fun or special.”

Jamie stared at Draco for a moment, his piercing brown eyes seeming to bore into the older man. “So, you never had to sit at the children’s table at family reunions?”

Draco shook his head, “There were no family reunions. And at dinner parties I was tucked up in the nursery by the time dinner was served.”

“What about sharing your toys?”

“No sharing of toys, but I also had no one to play with. I didn’t make any real friends until I got to Hogwarts. I think that was the same for your Aunt Hermione as well.”

Jamie turned his piercing gaze onto his aunt. “Is it true?”

She nodded, “Yes, it was a very lonely time. It was the same for your father, you know. Your Uncle Ron and myself were his first friends. He was very lonely before he came to Hogwarts and met us. He would have loved not to be the only Potter.”

That didn’t seem to truly convince Jamie, but he let the subject drop after that and turned to eating his pasta and chicken. Rose quickly emulated him, both of them acting as if there had never been capers in their food at all.

The meal passed smoothly and Hermione savored every bite. She’d forgotten just how good it was to eat someone else’s cooking in her own home. Ron hadn’t known how to cook much, but he’d never served a bad meal on his nights in the kitchen.

Looking around the table, seeing Draco talking animatedly with Rose and Jamie her heart gave a lurch and something shifted.

Over the past five years she’d grown closer to Draco, first befriending him at work, and then, slowly, seeing him outside of it more and more often.

But, it wasn’t until this moment, seeing him laugh at a four-year-old’s bad joke, that she realized that all four of her observations on the train to Hogwarts had been wrong.

Or, rather, they had become wrong.

Draco wasn’t a menace. He wasn’t a bully and she didn’t think he was so weak and filled with fear anymore. No, he was a man of confidence now.

And that thought made her wonder just what he was doing here, cooking her dinner and speaking so well with her children. And what did that say about his feelings towards her?


	3. September 1, 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has moved on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my amazing betas.

“Look, Mummy!”

Hermione smiled and looked to where her young son was pointing. She knew what she would see, but of course she had to look.

Just ahead of them was the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Waiting beside it, smiles on their faces, were the only three people she loved as much as the little boy holding her hand.

No one who saw her three children would ever peg them as siblings. James Sirius, tall and lanky with his messy black hair and wire-framed glasses. Rose Ophelia, short and stocky with uncontrollable red hair pulled back into a tight, bushy ponytail. Hugo Polaris, tiny and petite with soft white blonde hair holding just the hint of a wave.

She held Hugo’s hand tightly to stop him from running through the crowd to his father. At four years old he didn’t quite understand stranger danger yet.

Draco smiled as she approached and she smiled back as she said, “I’m surprised you beat us here.”

Her husband shrugged, “Jamie and Rosie didn’t have too much to say in Godric’s Hollow this year.”

That made Hermione frown and she looked down at her two eldest. “Is that so? Is everything alright?”

Rose shrugged, “Just didn’t have much to say, Mum. Neither did Jamie. Father and you have most things covered.”

That brought a warm feeling to Hermione’s heart and she had to blink hard to stop from crying. She’d come a long way since those horrible days following the bombing, but she still had trouble believing she was doing a good job raising the children.  Even with Draco telling her she was every chance he got. To distract herself she reached down and picked up Hugo. “We ready to go through? Do you two have your trunks?”

“Right here, Aunt Hermione,” James said, grabbing hold of the cart holding two trunks and his beautiful snowy owl.

The family of five stepped through the barrier and emerged onto platform nine and three-quarters, which was obscured by lots of thick white steam. Hermione kept an eye on Hugo while Draco helped Rose and James load their trunks on the train. As soon as that was done James hurried off, likely to find his friends. Hermione wasn’t worried, she knew he’d be back before the train left.

She set Hugo down and gave Draco a 'look', he immediately took the young boy’s hand and drew him off, talking to him about how trains worked as Hermione turned back to her only daughter.

Hermione was not surprised to see Rose giving her a ‘look’. Like mother like daughter. “Yes, I was fairly obvious, but I figured you’d want to speak with me before you get on the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Was I wrong?”

“No,” Rose answered with a wrinkle of her nose that made Hermione smile, “but it’s funny that you have no subtlety. Father laughs over it all the time.”

Hermione wrinkled her own nose, causing Rose to give a rather indelicate snort of laughter, “Well, I am a Gryffindor and your father is a Slytherin. Not that he was a very subtle Slytherin.”

“He was subtler than Dad.”

“True, but even James is subtler than your Dad was.” It amazed Hermione still that she could talk about Ron without pain. It had been over eleven years, but in some respects she thought it had only been yesterday. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Rose shrugged, “Nothing really. I just wanted to say that I love you.” And abruptly Hermione’s arms were full as her daughter squeezed her tight. “I’ll miss you, Mum.”

Tears sprang to Hermione’s eyes and she hugged Rose tightly, “I’ll miss you, too, sweetheart.”

“Hey!” James said excitedly as he ran back up, out of breath, completely ignoring the mother-daughter moment. “Teddy’s back there!  And do you know what he’s doing? _Snogging Victoire!_ ”

Hermione just blinked at him, not giving him any reaction. Neither did Draco as he reappeared with Hugo. Rose on the other hand, had something to say.

“Do you think they’re going to get married?”

“Maybe! I asked Teddy what he was doing and he said he’d come to see her off! That means they’re dating, right? Like when you two were dating? Does that mean they’re going to get married?” He looked expectantly up at Hermione and Draco.

Hermione cast her husband a pleading look. He could answer this question, Teddy was his cousin, not hers.

Draco shot her a look that promised retribution before looking down at the expectant children. “That is entirely up to them and not our business. Understand? They’ll tell us when they’re ready.”

James grimaced, but said nothing as Draco pulled out his old pocketwatch, the one he had inherited from his father, and checked the time. Hermione could see her nephew’s eyes follow the pocketwatch. She knew he wanted something from his father. He had learned to fly on his mother’s old broom, but had nothing of his father’s to treasure. Well, he didn’t have anything yet. Hermione had a package tucked away in her closet. One that contained a magical invisibility cloak and a very beat-up pocket watch. Somehow the watch had survived almost entirely intact when Ron’s hadn’t. When Jamie turned seventeen she’d pass both objects on to him. She’d thought about giving him the cloak early, but had decided it would be better to wait.

She knew just how much trouble that cloak could cause.

“It’s almost eleven,” Draco said.

The train whistle blew and Hermione pulled Jamie into a quick hug as Draco said goodbye to Rose. By now doors were slamming along the scarlet train, and many families were saying goodbye through the windows.

Hermione, Draco, and Hugo stood on the platform and waved as the train pulled out of the station. Jamie waved back for a moment, then quickly disappeared. Rose continued to wave until the train rounded a bend and disappeared.

Hermione’s eyes burned, but she forced back the tears. She’d known this day would come for over eleven years. She’d known that Rose would board the Hogwarts Express and leave her. She’d pretended it wouldn’t bother her.

But it did bother her.

“Draco? Hermione?”

Neville’s strong voice came through her pain and Hermione pulled away from Draco, trying to smile as Luna and Neville approached.

“Aunt Luna!” Hugo cried and tore his hand out of his father’s grasp to run across the short distance and throw himself into Luna’s grasp. She gave the small boy a twirl and proceeded to check him over for nargles.

Neville chuckled, “I have a few hours before I need to head back to Hogwarts. Do you two want to grab lunch? Darius is with his grandfather and Olivia is, of course, safely on the train. Probably found Rose already.”

Draco looked at Hermione, “Are you alright with that? We could drop Hugo off with my mother.”

She mentally reviewed her own schedule before she nodded, “That sounds lovely. Do you have a place in mind?”

“Yes, let’s meet at the Leaky and we’ll walk over? It’s not far. Luna loves their pasta,” Neville said, scooping Hugo out of Luna’s arms and tossing him in the air before returning the giggling boy to his father.

Hermione followed Neville and Luna to the apparition point, Draco beside her with Hugo in his arms. For a moment the five of them came to a stop, waiting for others to move out of their way, standing almost as close as they had so many years ago.  She looked up at her husband and smiled as his silver eyes met hers.

“Yes?” He asked.

She smiled, tears coming to her eyes once more. Not because she was sad, no because she was happy. She was happy she wasn’t struggling to get by. Happy she'd finally listened to Luna and gone on that first date with Draco. Happy she'd allowed herself to move on. Happy she wasn’t leaving this train platform alone to return to an empty house. Happy she wasn’t pretending that the ones around her were other people. People she’d never see again in this life.

But she didn’t say any of that.

Instead she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, resting one hand on Hugo's back as he clung to his father. “I love you.”

Draco's brow crinkled in a light frown of confusion before it smoothed out as he smiled back. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this little story is at an end. Just three little glimpses into their lives. I wrote the first two parts of this months ago and then struggled with the third part. It was originally going to take place about a year after the second part and have Hermione and Draco move from friendship to romance. I must have tackled that scene a dozen times, but it never fit. This doesn't show them getting together, but I think it works much better because of that. Just like we didn't see the deaths that tore Hermione's life apart or the way in which Draco became a family friend. It's all been about the aftermath and how she tackles or accepts it.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this.

**Author's Note:**

> There are two more parts. I'll publish part two on Sunday and part three on the following Wednesday.


End file.
